


he watched what happened live

by amyelouise



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M, Gillovny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6631933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyelouise/pseuds/amyelouise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all knew it would end in disaster before it even started.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he watched what happened live

**Author's Note:**

> Although they're real people this is purely fiction.
> 
> Enjoy!

_"Just last night actually."_ He watched her through the television screen, her face stoic and her eyes serious. 

"What the fuck Gillian?!" He screamed at her image although he knew no one other than himself would hear his desperate cries. It was Sunday, and David was curled up on his sofa in just his boxers, watching Gillian in all her glory on live, national television. He threw a piece of salted popcorn at her rosy cheek as the corners of her lips turned up and she burst into raucous laughter. The presenter who had been stunned into silence joined in laughing, albeit nervously, and a few members of the audience whistled and cheered. His cheeks grew red despite himself and he turned his phone screen-side down. Suddenly even the sight of the Twitter app downloaded made him nauseous. 

_"No, no, no. I'm joking. I'm joking!"_ She turned to the audience and raised her hands in a calming matter, a mischievous smile still tattooed on her lips. _"David and I haven't been intimate for a looooong time."_ Her delicate fingers slipped through her straightened blonde hair, flipping it out of her eyes.

David's palm came up to his face and he shielded himself from the second-hand embarrassment. "You stupid stupid stupid-" 

_"Oh, I mean ever! We've never been intimate. Sure he's a good looking guy and everything, and we're very close."_

"Stop talking." He was verging on desolation now, his words a mere mumble as his head fell through his parted knees. He didn't have to be looking at the screen to know that her eyes would be slightly wide and her hands would be tangled in her hair, a deep blush creeping onto her chest. "You're digging yourself into a hole. Just stop talking." 

_"So, uh, yeah. We've never. We've never done that."_ He glanced in the TV's direction to see her grinning, deep plum lips surrounding her perfect pearly whites.

"For such a good actress you're such a fucking awful liar." The rest of the popcorn hit her profile then, with the plastic bowl shortly following. The interviewer had moved onto a different topic, but all he could think about was those four little words. _Just last night actually._ His cock twitched involuntarily at the memory and he stood up on wobbly legs to start picking up the dispersed kernels. "Goddammit. We're never going to hear the end of this." As if on cue, his phone rang, and he knew without a doubt who it would be. He picked it up begrudgingly, holding the device away from his ear so he wasn't deafened by the oncoming storm.

"What the fuck does your wayward girlfriend think she's doing? Bill Clinton has done a better job at denying his sex life than she has. Who the fuck even let her on that show? Why did we let her talk us into thinking it'd be a good idea? Every time you deny it, she goes and tweets something, or writes something or says something that fucks it all up again! I mean, do you two really wanna keep it secret still, because you seem to be the only committed party these days." He gaze once again drifted to Gillian and his anger waned slightly, she looked so beautiful with her grin wide and her eyes bright. 

"Listen, Mel. I gotta call you back. I'll talk to her." He put the phone down on his enraged publicist and sank back onto the sofa, his lungs expelling a loud sigh as he watched his erstwhile secret girlfriend finish her Plead the 5th segment.

-

It was a few hours later when he heard her key turn in the lock to his front door and he felt the anger wash over him almost immediately. He was now clad in jeans and a t-shirt, the mess on the floor from his earlier outburst nowhere to be seen. He'd planned to coolly approach the subject over a cup of coffee, but his cheeks were burning red hot and all he could think of were those four little words. _Just last night actually. Just last night actually._ The sound of her heels being kicked off her feet was shortly followed by the tip tap of her bare feet walking towards him against the cool wood floor. She came behind the sofa, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a strong, sure kiss on his cheek.

"Hey baby." Her voice was softer than it was on the TV, more relaxed, and if it weren't for his impending eruption of acrimony, he probably would have melted into her arms and let her lips trail wet kisses down his neck and stomach. He wrenched her wrists away from his fevered skin and turn to face her, kneeling on the sofa.

"Don't 'hey baby' me. What the fuck did you think you were doing Gillian? Going on that damn show and telling everyone that we're fucking? Why did you answer that fucking question? Why did you let him ask when the last time we had sex was in the first place?!" He let go of her soft skin and he watched it fall limply beside her, her smile being replaced by a small frown. "I told you, Melanie told you, we all told you that that show was a mistake. You can't be trusted Gillian! You always do this kind of shit! You tease the fans and you tease the media to the point where everyone can see through your thinly veiled lies. I mean, you could have just made the joke and left it there, but then you went and fucked it up even more! Do you even hear what comes out of your mouth sometimes? It's like you have no damn filter. And then you have to go and flip your fucking hair a thousand times which you only do when you're sprouting bullshit. They're going to be all over us now Gillian. I haven't even been online, god knows what they're all saying. Mel's already called me. I don't know how much damage control we can do this time." 

She wiped the tears that had been threatening to fall with the back of her hand and he instantly regretted shouting, but his apology was silenced before it even began with her hot rage. "Maybe David we shouldn't fucking do any more damage control! How long have we been dating David? Four years? Four years of dodging the press and sacrificing dates and lying to everyone. It made sense at first, but we've been publicly 'single' for two years now! Me, four! If we're not gonna do it now David, when are we going to do it? We keep putting it off and off, and frankly, I'm sick of it. I just want to be a normal couple now David. As normal as we fucking can be. But it's fine, I can't be trusted, and obviously everything that surrounds me is just white noise, is that what you're trying to say? Because if so, fuck you Duchovny." Her final words were spat out and he physically flinched. "I didn't need this shit David. I have to be at the theatre in an hour." She stormed off in the direction of the bedroom and he immediately followed.

He caught up to her with ease and pushed her onto the bed. "Ow, David! What the fuck?"

"Do you really do all this because you just want to be public? You just wanna stop hiding?" His face was menacingly close to hers but his voice was broken slightly at the sight of her eyes wet with unshed tears. She managed a curt nod in reply and he soothed her jawline with his thumb. His eyes flickered down to her plump lips and almost in response her pink tongue darted out to wet them. It was all he needed to crash his lips against hers, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth to explore the caves he knew so well. All he could hear were her sweet moans as he urged her further up the bed, grinding his hardening length in between her open legs. He could already smell her and he flit his finger down to her soaked panties, eliciting a deep groan that was half muffled by his mouth planted onto hers. He tore off her underwear, thanking God that she wasn't wearing tights, and felt her cold hand cup him through his jeans and begin to work on his belt.

His jeans were half way down his ass when he finally sank into her warm depths, quickly and smoothly thrusting in and out of her. Their pace quickened almost too soon but they were both so eager for their mutual release it went unnoticed. She tipped her hips and crossed her legs over his back, locking her ankles onto his ass, pushing him deeper inside. Her dress had ridden up to her waist and their mouths had lost each other's grip in favour of oxygen, the room filling with the sounds of their arousal. 

"I love you so much, y'know. You should have said - that you weren't happy." His words were forced out behind gritted teeth with pauses in between each thrust and she moved her hand to his cheek to tell him she was listening, although she made no move to reply. “We could have – worked something – out.” His thrusts were losing their finesse as he neared to his end and he glanced down at her flushed face, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her mouth slack, a steady stream of soft moans escaping her open lips. She was close, and all it took was one quick, firm swipe of his thumb along her sensitive bud of nerves to send her soaring. Her muscles squeezed rhythmically against his length and he felt himself pour into her, his fingers digging into the flesh of arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear as he lay spent above her, her arms anchoring his weight on top of her slight form. "I'm sorry for lashing out at you - saying those things. I love you."

"I love you too baby." She kissed the tip of his nose and nuzzled herself into his neck, still cradling his large body. "Besides, I've had many years of dealing with you when you're being an asshole, it's easy nowadays." He could feel a smile creep onto her face against his hot skin and he gasped in mock hurt.

"I'm not an asshole!" He saw her eyes skim upwards to meet his and her eyebrow rose towards her hairline. "Besides, I made up for it, right?" He gave a quick thrust of his body against her and he delighted in the giggle that emerged from her swollen lips. He peppered sweet little pecks across her cheeks, her laughs growing louder with every kiss as she tried to escape his loving attack. Her palm connected with his upper arm in a playful slap and he took the opportunity to rub his growing stubble across her soft skin. 

"No! I can't play Blanche with 'stache rash!" He finally ceased his movements and rolled away from her, his arm protectively draped across the flat plane of her stomach. Her fingers busied themselves drifting through the dark hair on his arm and she closed her eyes. "You know I need to get ready now, so you better get your caveman arm off me."

-

She'd changed into jeans and a t-shirt after her shower and her 'Streetcar' bag was neatly packed sitting next to the front door. It was her second performance and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't still a little anxious.

"You'll be amazing. I know you will." His chest pressed against her back as she faced the wall, staring into nothing. His hands found their way to her shoulders, massaging and spreading warmth across her tight skin. "You've got this." She spun around in his arms and pressed her lips to his in a warm, soft yet chaste kiss.

"God I hope so." Her face was inches away from his and he took the opportunity to touch his forehead to hers, his hands not stopping their ministrations across her scapulae. She sighed into his embrace and wrapped her arms around him, drawing herself closer into the safe confines of his chest. "Can we talk about it when I get home? Coming out?" She felt him nod against her cheek and she gave him one final kiss before picking up her bag. He grabbed her arm before she stepped through the door and thrust his phone in front of her face, the front camera switched on.

"I wanna send it to Mel, so she knows we're all good." She raised an eyebrow but didn't protest when his lips met hers and his thumb moved to snap the picture, the fake sound of the camera echoing through her ears. With one last smile, she caressed his cheek and waved goodbye, moving into the corridor on her way to Blanche DuBois.

-

She was in sitting in the back of a car on her way to the theatre when her phone chimed, her screen lighting up with a notification off Twitter. It was a tweet, from David, and she gasped loud enough for her driver to ask her what was wrong. There, imprinted on the internet for all to see, was their selfie, and the caption _"Just an hour ago actually."_

**Author's Note:**

> I am still writing "does art imitate life, or life imitate art?", I've just hit a MASSIVE writer's block for it! Sorry! x


End file.
